


Perchance to Dream

by Aurae



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Dream Sex, Exchange Assignment, F/F, Force Bond (Star Wars), Mortis (Star Wars), Space Swap 2019, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2019-11-07 05:25:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17954420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aurae/pseuds/Aurae
Summary: “She’s an old friend. I owe her my life.”





	Perchance to Dream

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LittleRaven](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleRaven/gifts).



“She’s an old friend. I owe her my life.”

That’s what she’d told Ezra Bridger once. What she’d told Ezra Bridger wasn’t the whole story, though, and it wasn’t even in the right order. But Ahsoka Tano knew that what was “true” often depended greatly upon one’s point of view. What counted as true for Ezra Bridger might not count as equally true for Ahsoka Tano.

So, what was Ahsoka Tano’s truth? Well, truth was, _she’d_ saved Ahsoka’s life long, long before they became friends. Friendship would’ve been impossible in the beginning—in fact, it would have been more than fair to say that they existed on different planes altogether.

Then Ahsoka died. After that, everything changed.

She’d never actually witnessed what had transpired firsthand, of course. Being dead made little things like that a logical impossibility. But her Master had told her afterwards what had been done, how he’d been the one to facilitate the transfer. How the Daughter’s final, selfless act on Mortis had been to offer up her own fast-fading life energy to Ahsoka in order to save her from death.

They’d never told anyone about any of it. Obi-Wan had been the one to decide that. Otherwise, the closed meetings of Council to determine her continued fitness for the battlefield would have been interminable, the diagnostic tests in the Halls of Healing would have been endlessly invasive, and if _that_ weren’t enough, she would’ve been bombarded by a million different questions from the creche younglings on top of everything else. In any case, it would’ve all boiled down to a single line of inquiry: Had anything about Padawan Ahsoka Tano changed?

Padawan Ahsoka Tano had no idea. Padawan Ahsoka Tano felt no different than she ever had. Touched by an ancient Force Wielder whom the sentients of many planetary systems revered as a goddess? Puh-leeze. Total non-event! My montrals see more action most days before breakfast! How disappointing!

Well. Until, the better part of a decade later, it wasn’t a non-event anymore.

***

The dreams began sometime after her first visit to Lothal. She didn’t remember precisely when, and she didn’t know what—if anything—Lothal had to do with it.

Maybe it was because the Jedi Order had once had a Temple on Lothal. Maybe it was because Lothal was one of those aforementioned planetary systems that revered the Father, the Daughter, and the Son as deities, as divine, embodied personifications of the tripartite nature of the Force itself?

At first, the dreams were innocuous. They were fond dreams of Anakin, of Obi-Wan, of other beloved friends lost during the war.

After that, the dreams became stranger, simultaneously more vivid and more surreal. She found herself returned to Mortis, its fields, its fortresses, its strange temporal churn of day into night into day again. She revisited the crystal caves and the clifftop cathedral of the Father. She revisited the Well of the Dark Side and the fortress of the Son where once she had been cruelly imprisoned. Neither of these places had made her afraid as they once had.

She also started visiting parts of Mortis she would have sworn she’d never seen: the Daughter’s sorrowful tomb on a barren, windswept moor and the Daughter’s soaring palace, surrounded by warm sunlight and sapphire blue sky.

The entire planet of Mortis was a vergence in the Force, and the Daughter’s palace was situated in the place of strongest light-side energies on Mortis. Ahsoka had never felt so vibrant, so exuberant, so _alive_. Everything was so unquestioningly _immediate_.

And so, she wasn’t in the slightest bit surprised to see the Daughter there, large as life and glowing in her golden raiment…

…raiment which, with a graceful wave of one long-fingered hand, was shed.

Now the Daughter’s body was bared, and Ahsoka was intensely, achingly aroused.

“Help me to live again!” the Daughter exhorted.

A challenge. That sounded like a challenge. Ahsoka did not hesitate. She stepped boldly forward, fitted her mouth of the Daughter’s perfect, red rosebud lips, and concluded that she would be more than happy to rise to it.

Or fall, as the case may be—fall into bed. Making love to the Daughter that first time felt like a ecstatic act of private worship. The Daughter’s verdant locks of hair veiled them both from the universe as orgasm tore through them—like winged things flapping frantically to be free.

***

Ahsoka awoke from her very, very diverting dream in slow-motion, unhurriedly, like a bubble of air rising in a jar of treacle syrup.

When she opened her eyes, though, she may have emitted an unbecoming shriek.

There was a…a… _creature_ perched by her bed, so close to her face that it loomed like a giant before her eyes.

“W-Who are you?” Ahsoka stammered.

“Hoo?” the creature seemed to echo her question with its call. The creature in question was really just a convor, a harmless flying animal no bigger than a hoopball…and that size estimation included the feathers.

“I…huh.” The convor’s coloration was unusual: gold and green. Ahsoka had never seen one like that before…except…except…

…except in a mural on the wall of the Lothal Temple. There was a gold and green convor perched on the shoulder of the Daughter. The convor was believed to be a messenger of the light side of the Force or possibly even an avatar of the Daughter herself.

“Hoo!” The convor seemed to agree, lashing its prehensile tail and fluttering its wings in approbation.

Ahsoka felt that selfsame fluttering low in her belly. It was the excitement of sexual arousal. She clapped her hands over her mouth and gasped, remembering the erotic content of her dream. “Umm…last night…did we _make_ you?” she asked the convor.

Laughter. She could actually hear _laughter_ in her head.

And gentle words as well. _No, beloved, this form is just the best I can do for now. More life will be needed to make more life._

“‘More life will be needed’…? Oh! Oh, I think I get it.” Ahsoka was grinning from ear to ear. That sounded fun. “Well, I guess I can’t call you ‘the Daughter,’” she continued, alight with mischief and speaking directly to the convor, who blinked at Ahsoka like it—or rather _she_ —understood every word, “so we’ll have to come up with a different name.”

“Hoo!” The convor seemed to be in agreement again.

“Hmm. Okay, how about ‘Morai?’” Ahsoka suggested, struck by sudden inspiration. It meant _Mortis-Born_ in Togrutan. “What do you think of that as a name?”

 

END

**Author's Note:**

> Posted to the exchange on March 4, 2019.


End file.
